


How To Delete Your Feelings

by pocketedwocket



Category: 99 Homes
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketedwocket/pseuds/pocketedwocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get heated after the party celebrating Rick's major deal. Picks up where things left off on the dock in the backyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Delete Your Feelings

The moon is still high in the sky, and the muggy heat of Florida nightfall is inescapable, even at four-thirty in the morning. Tiny beads of sweat gather at the small of Dennis’ back and at the top of his brow. He takes another swig of whiskey and hangs his head.

The party concluded hours ago, guests drunkenly departed, more satisfied than when they arrived. There’s a receipt for the booze burning a hole in Dennis’ jacket pocket, a number he’s trying to forget (the number at the bottom of the bill was more than he’s paid for rent, before - and more than just one month’s worth).

Rick is lying still on the dock, eyes turned up to the stars. Dennis thinks he might be asleep until he cocks his head, just barely, and looks over at Dennis. Rick catches his eye and Dennis smiles, just a fraction, and buries his nose in his glass of liquor. Rick huffs. He pulls his hand up to his face and covers his eyes.

“Am I dreaming or is there still a bag of grass on the patio?”

Dennis blinks. “Bermuda, or um, zoysia?”

“Cute. Mari- _juana_ , dumbass.” Rick chuckles. Dennis hides an embarrassed face behind another sip of whiskey. “I could smell it, earlier.”

“Um, I don’t know,” Dennis answers. “Should I check it out?” He starts to stand up, crookedly. Rick reaches his hand out and Dennis grabs his arm, helping him to get up. They both lose their footing and stumble against the piling. 

“Careful. We’ll both end up at the bottom of the canal,” Rick chides, patting Dennis on the shoulder. He pulls Dennis along by the cuff of his jacket. “Come on.” They lumber forward, Dennis remembering at the last second to swoop down and grab the bottle of alcohol, righting himself with a twisted jerk. Rick’s hand slides down his back and settles at his waist, just barely pulling him closer to the center of the dock.

Rick keeps his hand there, warm even through the layers of Dennis’ jacket and shirt, until they reach the backyard. Dennis heads for the backdoor, like a moth drawn to the fluorescent bulb that just barely lights up the pool and porch. Dennis steers him gently to the deck chairs.

“Aha,” Rick says, with victorious glee. He picks up the baggie and collapses on the deck chair.

“You’re like a damn bloodhound,” Dennis exclaims, jostling Rick’s legs as he sits down on the same chair next to Rick’s knees. “Here, let me have it,” he says, motioning for Rick to pass him the bag. There’s a decent-sized nug and some rolling papers.

“You know what you’re doing, boy?”

Dennis points to the cigarette tucked behind his ear. “I can figure it out.” 

Dennis starts to roll a joint, balancing it on his knees, as Rick’s eyes slowly drift shut again. Dennis licks the paper and seals the joint, jostling Rick’s knee with his elbow. His handiwork isn’t precise; Dennis brushes a few pieces of shake off his lap onto the pool deck. “Don’t fall asleep on me.” He holds the joint out for Rick, who takes it carefully between his thumb and forefinger and places it between his lips. Dennis starts patting down his pockets, looking for a lighter. He finds a red one in his back pocket a few seconds later and holds it up to Rick’s mouth.

Rick smiles around the joint as Dennis lights it for him. He inhales deeply as Dennis settles beside his thigh, then passes it to the younger man.

“No, I’m- I’m all right,” Dennis declines, but Rick offers it again, insistent. “Live a little. One hundred homes,” he repeats. Dennis takes it from him, still slightly reluctant.

“I guess my current employer isn’t going to drug test me,” Dennis laughs. Rick’s eyes meet his, watchful. His gaze lingers. “To one hundred homes.”

“No,” Rick starts. “No, that’s not a test you’ll have to undergo,” he says carefully. Dennis takes a slow hit and passes it back to Rick. ”This is decent stuff,” he comments. “Wonder how they managed to leave it behind.”

“Probably made it out with a bottle of champagne in each hand.”

“Any unopened cases can be returned to the store,” Rick informs him, “but why bother?”

“Well, cheers to them. More for us,” Dennis says, taking the joint back from Rick and taking a big enough hit that leaves him coughing.

“Your moral compass is weaker than I thought,” Rick wisecracks. Dennis slaps at him playfully with the hand that’s not holding the joint.

They smoke quietly, companionably, until the joint burns away to nothing.

Dennis walks to the edge of the pool and plops down beside it, dipping his toes into the water. “Feels nice.” He drags his fingers through the water beside them. 

Rick settles down beside him, clumsily rolling up his pants legs, stripping off his holster and setting it beside himself, and sliding his own feet into the water. “Mmm.”

Dennis pulls out his pack of cigarettes from somewhere in his jacket. The box is slightly crumpled, but its contents intact. He puts one to his mouth and lights it, tossing the lighter to the pool deck, about a foot away. He slides his legs deeper into the water; the hem of his pants legs start to weigh down with water.

Dennis enjoys the mellow silence as he smokes his cigarette down to the filter.

Dennis pushes off the edge and into the water, submerging himself beneath the surface for a few long seconds. He pops up from the pool and tosses his hair. “Whoo!” he shouts into the darkness. Dennis floats on his back, his clothes adding enough weight to his body that he starts to sink lower than the surface. He paddles his hands to pull himself back to the top of the water, looking sideways at Rick.

“Water’s warm,” Dennis says. He backstrokes across the pool and returns to the other side.

“It ought to be,” Rick says matter-of-factly. “I pay to have it heated.”

It’s not a joke, it’s not even funny, but Dennis smiles anyway. He swims to the bottom of the pool and hangs there, submerged in the water, holding his breath as long as he can. He pops up closer to Rick, diminishing the space between them. Rick looks down at him carefully. 

Dennis runs a hand through his hair, pushes it back from his forehead. He meets Rick’s eyes and reaches out a hand, splashing him with a handful of water. Rick seizes his wrist, pulls him close. Dennis looks up through wet eyelashes, unexpectedly tolerant of Rick’s manhandling. Rick pulls him through the water until he’s floating between Rick’s knees. Dennis brings his feet down to touch the bottom of the pool.

Rick stretches his other hand out blindly for the bottle of whiskey. He refills the almost empty glass, then has second thoughts and takes another swig directly from the bottle. Rick offers the glass to Dennis but instead of taking it, Dennis inches forward and tips his head back just slightly, an invitation of sorts. Rick holds the bottle of whiskey to Dennis’ lips and pours as Dennis tilts his head back. A few rogue drops of whiskey escape out of the edge of his mouth.

Rick drops Dennis’ wrist to bring his fingers up to his cheek, and gently wipes the whiskey off of Dennis’ mouth. Dennis turns his head and the tip of his lips catch on Rick’s fingers. Dennis sucks Rick’s thumb into his mouth, licks the whiskey from the pad of his finger.

“You were right,” Dennis whispers, turning his cheek into Rick’s hand.

“How so?” Rick replies, voice deep and rich.

“No callouses,” Dennis laughs under his breath. “Shit,” he murmurs, “come here.” Dennis tugs him forward, trying to pull him into the water.

“Wait, wait,” Rick stops him. Dennis looks confounded for a moment, but Rick’s hands fly to his own belt, undoing it and pulling it through the loops quickly, discarding it somewhere behind him. “Genuine oak bark tanned leather,” he explains matter-of-factly. He pauses and takes off his watch, too.

“You might as well keep going,” Dennis laughs, but Rick slides into the water, still clothed in his shirt, jacket, and trousers. Rick kisses Dennis quickly, stoppering the laugh with his own mouth. Dennis is pliant underneath Rick’s hands, his shoulders leaning forward into the touch. 

Dennis kisses him with vigor, opening his mouth and nipping at Rick’s lips until the other man opens up, swallows his kisses whole. Dennis makes a pleased little murmur, tasting the whiskey and weed and vanilla tang of Rick’s e-cigarettes on his tongue. His lips are smooth, like he keeps a tube of Chapstick nearby constantly. This is _such_ a bad idea, but Dennis can’t help himself. This is the closest he’s ever been to Rick, but he can’t get enough; he needs to feel Rick’s arms around him, his mouth on his own. 

Rick’s hands are large, almost completely covering the sides of Dennis’ neck, his palms warm against Dennis’ wet skin. Dennis slides a hand up and covers one of Rick’s hands with his own; his other hand clings to Rick beneath the surface of the water. Rick crowds him against the wall of the pool, controlling the kiss, backing him up to the edge. Rick boxes Dennis in, arms bracketing either side of his shoulders. The water ripples around them.

“You’re tense,” Dennis comments, pulling back slightly to look Rick in the eye. He lowers his head and bites gently at Rick’s jaw. “You shouldn’t be.” He peppers kisses along Rick’s jawline, unbuttoning Rick’s shirt as he goes.

“And you talk too much,” Rick replies, taking Dennis by the chin and kissing him soundly. When he pulls away, Dennis leans into him, hungry for more. Rick smirks. “You want me to loosen up? Follow me.”

Rick hoists himself out of the pool, bracing himself with his arms and lifting himself over the edge. Dennis swims to the ladder in the deep end and climbs out of the water, following Rick inside the house.

They help each other out of their wet jackets and shirts, throwing them over the shower rod in the bathroom. Dennis makes himself comfortable on the bed in the master bedroom after stripping off his t-shirt.

Dennis watches from the bed as Rick messes with something on the dresser. He takes note of the way the wet clothes stick to Rick’s back, defining the broad shape of his shoulders. “I save this for special occasions,” he says, turning around with a mirror stacked with white powder in his hands.

“Oh, wow, are you kidding me?” Dennis asks, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. “Who the fuck are you?”

“You’ve never-?” Rick starts to ask, but Dennis waves his hand. Rick sits beside him on the bed, pulling his legs up and tucking them underneath him.

“I went to public school in Orange County,” he says, as if that explains everything. “I just haven’t… not since Connor was born.”

“Well then, it’s about time,” Rick says, snorting a line. He blinks rapidly. “Used to be a party animal?” He runs his knuckles across the feather tattoo on the inside of Dennis’ arm. 

“You think you know me,” Dennis says scornfully. 

“I know enough.” He holds the tray out for Dennis, who snorts a line with each nostril, then tilts his head back, sniffling.

“Not me, anyway.”

“Connor’s mother?”

Dennis narrows his eyes at Rick. “Yeah.”

“That why you split up?” Rick snorts another line and puts the tray on the bedside table.

“Not really, no.” Dennis rubs the back of his neck. Rick shifts his position on the bed, pulling Dennis in front of him. He puts his hands on Dennis’ shoulders, kneading the muscles in his back and neck carefully. Dennis sags into the touch, realizing Rick is far more tactile than he’d ever expected.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” 

Dennis sighs and leans his head to the side, pinning Rick’s hand down with his cheek. He takes a deep breath. Rick slides his other arm around Dennis’ waist, bringing his back flush with Rick’s chest. Dennis smiles into Rick’s hand.

“She caught me with somebody else,” he murmurs against Rick’s knuckles as Rick noses against the nape of his neck.

“Aha - the other woman.” Rick bites Dennis’ neck where it slopes down into his shoulder. He arches his back. 

“Something like that,” Dennis agrees, putting his hand on top of Rick’s where it rests on his waist, steering it lower. Their hands dip beneath the waist of Dennis’ boxers. 

“Get these off,” Rick murmurs in his ear. “I saw you sneak off with her, you know,” Rick lets on, referring to the woman Dennis had been drinking champagne with earlier in the evening. “And you taste like pussy.” Dennis grins, a devilish smirk creeping onto his face. “She your type?”

“What, brunette?”

“Older.” 

“Maybe.” Dennis smiles - slight, but it’s there, the corners of his mouth just barely turning upward.

“Good for you.”

Dennis turns his head back at an awkward angle to kiss Rick over his shoulder. He pulls off his boxer shorts one leg at a time and tosses them on the floor. Rick slides his hand lower and takes Dennis’ dick in his hand. He’s been half hard since they were making out in the pool. “Mm,” Dennis lets out, groaning as Rick wraps his fist around his cock and starts to jerk him off slowly. “Fuck. Yeah.” Dennis thrusts into the friction of Rick’s large hand on his dick, a flush starting to creep up his abdomen and across his chest. “Think you can get it up again, old man?” Dennis asks playfully. Rick flicks the top of his ear with his free hand, the one that isn’t wrapped firmly around Dennis’ dick.

“What happened to showing some respect for your elders?”

Dennis grins, smug. “Maybe you should teach me a lesson.”

“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” Rick says. Dennis closes his eyes and Rick runs a hand through his short hair, pressing his nose against Dennis’ temple and inhaling. “To subdue the enemy without fighting is the true height of skill.” Rick runs his hands across Dennis’ chest, feeling the curve of taut muscle underneath his palms.

“You see me as the enemy?”

“No, but I was to you once, if I’m not mistaken.” He kisses Dennis’ neck. “The world isn’t black and white, Nash…”

Rick pushes Dennis down onto the bed. “Use your mouth,” he commands, and Dennis obeys. He slides the rest of Rick’s clothes off carefully and follows with his mouth, dragging his tongue down Rick’s thigh. He licks at Rick’s balls before taking his cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around it as he slides his lips as far down as he can. Rick shuts his eyes, a tremor running up his spine. “Good boy, good-“ Rick’s thought is swallowed somewhere in his throat as he groans. Dennis pulls off to look up at Rick, gauging his interest, leaving a trail of spit connected between his lower lip and the head of Rick’s cock. 

“Fuck my face,” Dennis whispers, as if Rick needs convincing. His pupils are blown. He tongues the head of Rick’s dick, flicking his tongue around to taste the liquid beading at the shiny tip. “Don’t make me say it again,” he warns, mouthing over Rick’s dick again.

Rick runs his hands through Dennis’ wet hair, grasping for a hold. He fists one hand in the hair at the back of his neck, his other hand finding purchase on his shoulder. He thrusts into Dennis’ mouth, warm wet heat around his dick. Dennis opens wider and lets Rick use his mouth; his cock is warm and heavy on Dennis’ tongue. “I like it when you beg.” Dennis doesn’t flinch as Rick thrusts up into his open mouth. “Didn’t think your machismo would allow for this,” Rick taunts him, rolling his hips up. Rick’s fingers curl into Dennis’ hair tightly. “Want to treat you right. Fuck you so good,” he pants, taking his dick at the base and forcing it further into Dennis’ mouth until he gags. Heavy gasps of air escape Rick’s mouth every time his dick makes contact with the back of Dennis’ throat. Dennis’ eyes water as he takes what Rick has to give him.

“You treat all your employees this well?” Dennis asks when Rick lets up for a moment, a flirtatious edge seeping into his voice.

“Only the ones that look as good as you do in a hard hat,” Rick counters, “and on your knees.” He tugs Dennis up for a kiss, reaching a hand behind him and groping his ass. Dennis kisses like he’s hungry for it. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Dennis intimates, a flash of concern passing through his eyes.

“It’s a little late for that,” Rick says in between kisses. Dennis’ flesh is hot underneath Rick’s hands. His fingers play along the crack of Dennis’ ass, passing lightly over his hole, teasing the skin. “Gonna fill up your ass.” He slaps Dennis’ behind. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Dennis groans. Rick pushes a second finger in past the rim. He doesn’t wait to add a third.

“God, that stuff is messy,” Dennis complains, hissing when Rick strikes a sweet spot, flexing his fingers. 

“So wet and so slick for me. Going to fill you up with my come,” Rick pants. “Come here.” Rick drags Dennis toward him, teasing him with one finger, then two, then replacing his hand with the slow burn of his cock. He keeps a hand on Dennis’ ass, squeezing him tightly. “Ride me hard, baby,” he says, pistoning his hips back and forth, sliding his cock deeper into Dennis. “You’re going to beg for it by the time I get through with you.”

“So easy for me,” Rick pants, bouncing Dennis up and down on his lap. “Wet like a cheap whore,”

“I don’t like that,” Dennis manages to get out. Rick freezes, holds Dennis firm in his grip. “The humiliation stuff. I’m not —“ Dennis hangs his head. Rick runs his hands down Dennis’ back. “Doesn’t do it for me.”

“No? Rather hear how special you are? How pretty you look on my cock?”

“Tell me how much you like it,” Dennis says, panting. Rick smirks and thrusts up with extra force. He smacks Dennis. Dennis’ breath hitches. “Please, Rick.”

“Thought I was going to make you beg for it,” Rick says, grabbing Dennis’ throat. “Make you beg to open yourself up on my cock,” he says, tightening his grip around Dennis’ neck. 

“Need it. Need you. C’mon,” Dennis moans, like he’s in some kind of cheap porno, while Rick grips his hips and thrusts up into Dennis even harder. “Fuck. Fuck you,” he hisses, head bowing forward. His skin is on fire, sweaty and slick. Rick wraps a hand around his cock, jerking him off as he fucks up into him. Rick keeps a steady rhythm, jackknifing up into Dennis with regularity of pressure and unbridled intensity.

Dennis pulls Rick’s hand to his cock, and moments later he’s coming through both of their fingers. Rick isn’t slow to follow, finishing with a groan as he bucks up into Dennis. His head falls back onto the pillow, sweat beaded at his temples. He sighs. 

Rick wipes the sweat off of his forehead and lays back, spreading his arms out on the bed. “I’d ask if anyone would worry about you not coming home tonight, but…” He looks toward the window, where the first rays of light are streaming in through the faux wood Venetian blinds. 

Dennis moves to rest on top of him, laying his head on the center of Rick’s chest. Rick drags his fingers down Dennis’ shoulders, fingers skimming across the muscles in his arms. “You’re not feeling guilty enough to skip out yet, are you?”

“I don’t think I could if I tried,” Dennis admits. 

“Get some rest,” Rick tells him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Dennis settles against him and closes his eyes. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”


End file.
